The Silent Audience
by grimmfeather
Summary: During the journey, Jin experiences a bit of an epiphany one night, with only the stars to bear witness. Or so he thinks. Warning: rated for Mugen-speak.


Writing Samurai Champloo fanfic is a first for me, but this one came out of nowhere after I finished watching the series a second time with a friend. This may be continued. Enjoy!

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Jin awoke with a start, snatched up his glasses, and immediately scanned the area for the source of the disturbance. His hands rested lightly on the hilt of his katana, ready at a moment's notice to draw the blade from its sheath and leap into action. Jin's gaze swept over the nearby bushes and the imposing wall of darkly thicketed forest that sheltered the riverbank to his right. His heart beat loudly in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his body, as he shifted slightly to monitor the river and the opposite side of the bank. But something wasn't quite right. There weren't any swordsmen lurking in the foliage, he couldn't sense any abnormal motion in the flow of the water, and, well, nothing seemed amiss. Apart from the silent audience of stars and moon, Jin was alone.

Well, that wasn't quite right either. He most definitely had company at the little makeshift campsite, but only of the deeply asleep, occasionally snoring, sprawled-out and extremely vulnerable variety that was the status quo with Mugen and Fuu. Jin sighed to himself, wondering how often he had attempted to inform those two of proper precautions to assume while sleeping in the open (or anywhere, for that matter), which emphasized the importance of being able to assume a defensive stance in the blink of an eye. It wasn't that he was trying to nag or live up to Mugen's assessment of him as an "uptight, four-eyed bastard with a stick shoved up somewhere private-like," but Jin had to admit that he cared about those two, and if anything--

Wait a second. _Did I just--?_

But Jin prioritized their safety, shoving his introspection away for the moment until he was satisfied that a band of highway robbers--or something worse--wasn't going to jump out from behind a boulder the moment he let his guard down.

Only when that condition had been met did Jin allow himself to relax, repositioning his katana so they lay directly above his head, gingerly removing his glasses and laying them at his side, and leaning back with his arms folded behind his head until he was gazing up at the stars from under the threadbare blanket. Then--and only then--could such thoughts be given ample consideration.

_I care about those two, and if anything happened to them, I'd never forgive myself._

The words sounded so cliché when aired and examined in their entirety, but one of the few things Jin had never succeeded at was being able to lie to himself, for better or for worse. _So that's how I feel, plain and simple. . .hmm. . . _

Jin nearly chuckled as he imagined Mugen and Fuu's respective reactions to such a statement, were it ever to slip past his tongue and into their range of hearing. He supposed that they both must harbor similar feelings, though Mugen would be utterly loathe to ever admit to it, and Fuu might find the attachment too painful if they were ever forced to part ways. But Jin entertained the thought for a while longer, since Mugen's raucous drawl and Fuu's happy chattering had started bouncing around in his head and wouldn't seem to leave until they'd had their say.

"_Like hell I'd ever give a rat's ass about a stupid pansy like you," Mugen's voice spat back, his stance defensive, his features drawn into an exaggerated pout._

But Jin understood that all the profanity and posturing was Mugen's way of drowning out the voice of reason when it came calling.

"_Jin, I. . .," Fuu stuttered slightly, a shy blush creeping up into her cheeks. And then suddenly, she was all smiles and a giant grin-and-a-half. "I can't believe you feel the same! I've wanted to tell you two all along, but I didn't know if--"_

And then Jin and an initially unwilling Mugen would be enveloped in a slightly awkward embrace. Jin knew that Fuu couldn't help wearing her heart on her sleeve, but it was simply one of her more endearing qualities.

_So. . .I've finally found something, or someone, or perhaps a couple of 'someones' to protect. After all this time, I've stumbled upon a reason to wield my sword. . .? _

Jin stared up at the stars, seeking an answer to something he never really intended to pose as a question. The stars of the heavens, innumerable as the gravel of the riverbank, simply looked on in silence. Jin had realized, since he was a child, that stars were always more than willing to entertain your questions, but they seldom provided any answers.

But then again, Jin felt, for perhaps the first time in his life, that he didn't require assistance with his predicament to any further extent, that he no longer required the comfort of the stars' silent answer. Now it seemed he asked the question merely out of force of habit. Since the events in the dojo so many years ago, Jin had struggled with his constant state of half-existence, living a life without a purpose. Such an existence conflicted with the very principles by which he strove to conduct himself, the imparted lessons that were his master's lone legacy. Did Jin dare to believe that he'd found, at long last, that which he'd futilely pursued all these years?

No, Jin could hardly believe it. The affirmation still lacked the element of certainty and reliability, as if Jin was reluctant to take the necessary leap of faith onto this untested bridge of theory. Would it support his weight--along with the weight of his companions? Would it stand the stresses and wear and tear of everyday life? Trusting this instinctive answer was akin to simply diving into a body of water of unknown depth. (Of course, Mugen wouldn't have any problem accomplishing that. The man lived on his instinct, trusting his whims.)

There was only one test Jin could devise in order to determine if he'd truly committed himself and found the answer he sought. He breathed deeply, his gaze sweeping over the river and the forest, his heart and soul focusing on Mugen and Fuu, all set against the inky backdrop of the star-studded heavens. Then the words came naturally. Quietly, but naturally.

"I've finally found something to protect. I now understand my reason for wielding my sword. My duty lies with Mugen and Fuu. . .and I'm indebted to them for more than they may ever know."

Jin's eyes widened in slight surprise as he realized his thoughts had managed to voice themselves. _Hmm, that settles it, then._ A contented smile graced Jin's features, and he found himself basking in the silence of the stars, the silent audience that no longer tormented him nor held sway over his thoughts. A peaceful, comfortable silence--

"Shut yer trap, will ya, Jin!" came a veritable growl from the direction of Mugen's silhouetted form. "Some of us are, uh, I dunno, tryin' to friggin' _sleep_! _At night_! Imagine that!"

"Ah, geez, Mugen! Can't a girl get some beauty sleep?" Fuu's voice almost whined.

Mugen cackled. "Oh, believe me, ya could sure use some of that beauty sleep, sweetheart!"

"Shut up, Mugen!" One of Fuu's sandals was chucked clear across the campsite to connect solidly with Mugen's nose. Fuu had surprisingly good aim.

"_Gah_! Why, you--!"

"Jin, a little help, _please_?!"

Jin merely rolled his eyes and turned over under his blanket, trying to tune out their argument. Apparently Mugen and Fuu hadn't been nearly as deeply asleep as Jin had previously imagined. And furthermore, he had a hunch that this "audience" wouldn't be quite as silent as the last--not by a long shot.


End file.
